Folie à deux
by the-warner-syndrome
Summary: Other than her and her family's names, Tris Prior has no memories of her life before the accident. But one fateful encounter with Four changes her entire life, bringing her into a world where traitors are friends and everyone is more than what they claim to be. Now, Tris will have to find out who she really was, and why people want her dead, before it's too late. [FourTris]
1. Prologue

Hey guys! Now that the series is over, and we're getting some hella sweet movie adaptations, I've decided to pick up this little nugget right here and try (slash fail miserably) to rewrite this story. I've seriously forgotten what the main idea of this story was, actually, so I'll do my best to make this as awesome as I thought it would've been. Sigh.

**Disclaimer: **Characters and series owned by Veronica Roth. Plot and OCs were created by me...unless otherwise mentioned.

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**Summary**

Other than her name and the names of those she loved the most, Tris has no memory of her past before the accident. 2 years after admitting her loss and losing all hope for someone to remind her of who she was, she finds comfort in Christina, the girl who claimed to be her best friend from past times, and their apartment neighbour Tori. In those two years of finding for the light she once had, life has been good to Tris so far. But when she comes across a young man whose eyes that give away the ghosts of his past and only a number to call his name, Tris is in for things that she never thought possible.

Everyone is keeping a secret from Tris, and there are people out there who want her dead before what they claim to be the biggest secret can be revealed to the world. But the only way for her to know what this secret is, she'll have to find out who the real Tris Prior is, and what she has done to make the whole world want her dead.

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**Prologue**

On the cool December night of 2012, a family of four were driving through the snowy streets of Amity City. It wasn't normal for Beatrice Prior to be out so late at night; she never liked going beyond the 10 pm curfew. But, despite her efforts to not come with them, her parents had forced her and her brother, Caleb, to come along. _This is important_, they had told the two siblings. _We need to visit your Aunt Edith._

There was something wrong when they said that. It was obvious by how their eyes flew left and right when they talked to them. _Almost as if they're lying, _she thought. She wasn't born in Candor city ("The City of Jerks" as Ryan likes to call it sometimes), so she had never been good at knowing whether people were lying or not. But being best friends with Christina since childhood, she's already learned a few things from her.

Of course, another reason was because she never knew of any Aunt Ediths in her 16 years of living.

Thinking about her long-time best friend made her sigh. The two had been inseparable until recently, when both of them turned 16. Both had been preparing for the school of their choice and knew how harsh the entrance exams were. Christina told her she wanted to go to Dauntless Academy since they take academics lightly and focus more on learning how to survive in the world, while Beatrice... Well, she was still unsure of where to go, but hopefully she'll find some sort of giant sign with the words "Choose This School" in bright neon lights soon.

"Sis," her older brother said, bringing her back to the present. She hadn't realized that she was singing one of the songs she heard her mother sing to her as a child. "I love you and all, but your singing was slightly—no, terribly off key." Caleb was looking at her with a soft smile on his face, and it annoyed her a little. It was one of the flaws of being Abnegation-born: like the Candors, the people here were just too honest and selfless to her own liking. People tried not to gain the other cities' attention unless necessary, and everyone would look at you like you were satan himself if you had ever tried to do anything selfish.

Except for one.

"Just lighten up a bit and learn to lie, especially if it makes other people happy," she says. "Besides, you love singing with me."

"No, I don't." He protested calmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Says the boy who sings Celine Dion in the shower," her smile grows wide and she's trying not to laugh. Celine Dion used to be a worldwide idol in the past, or so she read in historical autobiographies. "In fact, I'm pretty sure you sing in your sleep."

"I don't!"

"Yes, you do."

"No, I—" He was about to say before their dad interrupted.

"Okay, okay. Stop fighting. Caleb, if Beatrice wants to sing, let her; off-key singing isn't a crime. And Beatrice," he turns from his seat to catch a glimpse of his daughter. "stop embarrassing your brother and let him do whatever he wants. Just be happy that neither of you two actually sing in public."

There's a small smile playing on their father's lips, and Beatrice can't help but return the gesture. Her parents may not have been the most fun, but she was sure that they were the best. Even if the entire world lives by the universal manifesto, "Faction before Blood"—concern for your city before concern for your family, or something like that—they'd still go against that just for the sake of making them happy.

She pretends to be offended and huffs. "Sorry," she mutters to no one in particular before letting her eyes land on the person seating in the passenger seat. Natalie Prior; he mother.

She had almost all the features her mother has: blond hair, sparkling blue eyes and a petite-but-sturdy body. Her mother had always told her that she was the kind of beautiful that always made a person look twice. It made people want to know her, yet at times she looks intimidating, especially when she's in a sour mood. It made anyone who knew her want to make her smile, because seeing her smile brought light wherever she went.

That was what Ry told her.

She and Ryan didn't have the best love story, but it was perfect nonetheless. He had accidentally bumped into her during the pre-Choosing Ceremony, when they were taking their tests, and made up for it by treating her out. She remembered their first conversation quite clearly:

_"Why would I? Cute as you might be, you might be some serial killer. Or a cannibal who plans to eat me once we're in some dark alley."_

_"I'll give you an A for creativity and for calling me cute," he winks at her and flashes a bright smile, making her blush. "but I'm just a normal teenager who plans on doing nothing but treating this lovely lady out as a means of apology. If she'd say yes of course."_

_"Yes," she says, almost too excitedly. On their way to the coffee shop, she remembers that she hasn't introduced herself yet. It was stupid for her, really, to stop in the middle of the road just to extend her hand to him. "I'm Beatrice by the way."_

_"That's a beautiful name, Beatrice." He takes her hand in his and, instead, kisses the back of her hand. "The name's Ryan, but you can call me Ry."_

They had grown closer and closer within each passing day. In time, she had learned who Ryan really was, while he learned about how being an Abnegation child, especially one of a man who has a seat in the government, was suffocating. They kept their secrets in ways that even the wind couldn't carry their secrets away. But one thing that wasn't a secret was the attraction that grew between them as the days had grown by. Even love itself has not known such sweet, innocent people like these two.

But it wasn't until one sunny afternoon, though, did love come running to her house with disheveled hair and an ear-shattering knock on her door.

_Ryan stood by the door, crouching on the floor with a cup of coffee, much like the one she ordered when they first went out, in his hand. He was panting and sweating, but none of that mattered now that he was here. None of it mattered except this exact moment, in this exact place, with this exact person. _

_"I may or may not be in love with you, Beatrice Prior, and I may or may not have been dying to say it since the first day we met."_

_She ran up and kissed him then, smiling as he lifted her by the waist and spun her around. "You're an idiot, Ry," she says, kissing him again, "and I may or may not be in love with you too."_

_In the end, that was all that mattered. _

_She was all that mattered. _

A smile crossed the young girl's face at the sweet memory. They've been together for 2 years now and never has he stopped treating her like she was the most beautiful person in the world, looking at her as if she was his entire life. It made her wonder, sometimes, how a carefree rule breaker like him fall in love with a girl like her? Guessing him, he's probably playing video games with his older brother, laughing when he wins and calling him the weirdest of names when he lost.

"Andrew."

She turned to her father to see his shoulder stiffen in response, but it was the way he looked, so uneasy and terrified, that made Beatrice worry. She turned to Caleb, who wore the same expression as her, and knew something was wrong.

"Dear," their mother said, a voice full of worry as she placed her hand on her husband's arm. "What's wrong?"

"Something's not right," He replies, eyes focused on the road ahead. It was starting to drizzle now. "We're going the wrong way."

"I checked the GPS. We're in the right track."

In that moment, Beatrice swore she could hear a string inside her head snap. And she understood now.

She knew why her parents were eager to leave.

She knew why Caleb, for the first time, went against his parents and begged them to leave him behind.

She knew now why her brother had begun to tell her things she never knew of since last week.

They're trying to run away.

But from what?

"Dad," Caleb uncharacteristically cuts in, pulling his seat belt and fastening it. He knew what was happening too. "Turn around." For the first time in Beatrice's life, she sees her own brother snap and panic.

He knows it.

He knows what's happening.

"What?"

"Turn around, Dad. _Turn around!"_

"Caleb Prior," their mother warns. The tone of her voice makes Beatrice shiver. "Don't talk to your father like that—"

"No, Mom, you don't get it. You're going to die! _I'm serious_!"

"This is no time for jokes," his sister replied. "Stop stressing dad out, Caleb."

And maybe it was the way he looked at her, as if he was desperate. Maybe it was the way his eyes were clouded with nothing but fear and regret. Maybe it was the way he mouthed a simple sorry did she know that _this _was what he was talking about.

They both know what is happening and why.

And they knew who was the reason behind this.

But—

It was too late.

"Honey," Their dad starts. "I… think we should—"

But in that instance, time seemed to stop still as light flashed before their eyes.

"Shit," Caleb muttered.

They were going to die.

And maybe if Caleb hadn't been acting so suspiciously and just told what would happen, all this could be avoided. Maybe he could've found the courage to tell his parents the truth and accepted the possibility that they may never forgive him. But he wasn't brave; his sister was.

Unforgiven. That was how he hoped to die.

Their parents, on the other hand, were in shock. In the last few seconds of their lives they thought of each other, of their children, of how proud they were of their children, even if their lives had been cut short by an accident.

Except it wasn't an accident at all.

But for Beatrice… It was different. People told her that when a person dies, all they see is a world of white and millions upon millions of memories flashing into view. It was ridiculous, she thought, but she never truly knew that what they said was true until now.

Pages and pages of her life was spreading out, as if a stack of papers had been knocked over and had left a huge mess in its wake.

She sees her younger self, playing with her brother and best friend. She sees her mother, singing her songs about love and happiness.

She sees Caleb, laughing from when she tried to cheer him up because he failed in one subject. She sees Christina, frowning when her ice cream fell on the ground.

She sees Ry, looking down at her with a smile when she starts talking about her favorite shows, and it's a sudden ache in her chest. _I'll never see him, _she thinks. _I'll never get the chance to say goodbye._

_You and me against ourselves, huh, Tris?_

It was a nickname that he gave her one day, when he thought that her first name was too long.

_You and me._

The world had stopped spinning and slowed down, but in that moment another memory flashed before her. It was an old one, one that she would like to forget.

"_I love you, Beatrice. Forgive me."_

And she did. She's forgiving him again and again and she doesn't know why she's forgiving him, why he's saying sorry. She's crying and crying and thinking about the boy's face, the cloudy blue eyes that seemed to see through her. She knew him. She knew his name. It was... It was...

Too late.

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**A/n:**Aw yiss! First goal completed! I feel so hyped! Sorry for the 2k words though UnU

Next chapter will be written in Tris' P.O.V., and hopefully it remains that way until the end. Writing in 3rd person really isn't my forte.

Yes, yes, I know my writing style isn't normal... And it'll be ever more abnormal when it becomes 1st person P.O.V. (I am a _really _descriptive writer).

Also, if you guys were wondering, this story is a rewrite of my old fanfic entitled "FADE". I lost interest in it for half a year (!), but now I decided to remake it since I gained interest in it again. Hopefully it turns out much better than the old one. You can still check the old one on my site though.

_So, how is it so far? Good? Bad? Average? Leave me a review and tell me what you think. Sadly, I don't think I'll continue writing this if I don't get any form of criticism for improvement. Sounds rude of me, but yeah... _


	2. Chapter 1: Voices in The Dark

**Disclaimer: **Characters, maps, and factions belong to Veronica Roth's "Divergent" trilogy. OCs and story created by me.

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**Chapter 1  
"Des voix dans les obscurité"**

**TRIS**

Darkness.

It's the first thing I see after… after... after _what?_ I don't know exactly.

My entire surrounding has been clouded by darkness, and it's making me wonder where I am exactly, or what am I doing here. Some part of me is thinking that I'm most likely in an unlit room, while the other is telling me that this isn't real, it's all just a dream that I'll eventually forget about in the morning. There's the only reason why, of course. People experience empty dreams most of the time, and I'm sure that this is one of it.

Right?

I'm hoping it is, because whatever it is that lies beyond this place, I'm expecting it to be a light that'll guide me out and give me a good wake-up slap.

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How long has it been since I was here?

How long has it been since I've been trying to get out?

I've been trying to say a single word for the past hour,—or so I think—a single whisper that'll hopefully echo throughout this dull place, but I can't hear anything. I can't say anything at all It feels like my mouth has been closed shut and stitched together to prevent me from uttering a word.

Nothing but empty whispers and silent screams floating around this endlessly vast place. It's making me head spin. For a dream, everything feels to vague, too realistic, much to my liking. But as long as I wake up, it won't matter because this is all a dream.

It must be.

I'm still probably in a house, in my room, sleeping like a baby who's been wrapped in a million blankets.

But do I even own a house?

I can't feel anything. No legs, no arms, no heartbeat. I don't know how I'm capable of thinking or having any form of consciousness at all. Since it's too dark I can't see myself. Or feel myself. I don't feel my fingers twitching, my feet touching the ground as I walk in this dark room, or even feel the wave of fear and uncertainty that's supposed to hit me.

I don't know what's going on. I don't like not knowing what's happening to me. But somehow I manage to stay calm despite me—

No. Wait.

I'm not calm. I can't feel it. I can't feel any comfort, certainty, and relief at all.

I feel… empty. Numb and frozen forever in a place that's starting to seem more and more of a nightmare as the seconds run by.

_Am I even real?_

Despite my inability to feel…anything, I start to walk. I tell myself to move, move, move until I find some sort of exit from this place. I'm just hoping that I'm actually walking. But more and more thoughts are starting to flood my mind. It's making me go insane.

I need to go insane.

I need to feel something.

_Am I trapped here?_

No, I'm not, I tell myself. I'm not trapped; I'm not going to let that happen. I'm going to keep on walking until I find _light._

I'm walking… walking…

Running…

Escaping…

I'm not trapped.

I'm not trapped.

I'm not…

Everything comes crashing down on me, like arrows repeatedly piercing through my body as it tries and fails to aim for my heart. It's making me feel so heavy and weak that I could feel the life being drained out of my slowly.

I'm starting to lose focus of the present time, and my eyes see nothing but blurred images as a small white light begins to grow bigger and bigger. I can't hear anything but uneven beeping sounds, growing louder and louder as well. Moments before my entire body gives up and the light swallows me whole, I wonder if this is all real. I wonder if I'm not dreaming.

I wonder if I'm dead.

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_Beep…_

I'm dead…

_Beep…_

I'm dead… I'm…

_Beep… beep…_

…not dead…

_Not yet. _

The moment I wake up from that horrible nightmare, my mind beginning to process what had happened, my entire body is already frozen with terror and uneasiness. What the hell was that?

I couldn't open my eyes yet, nor can I move my body entirely, but I can hear the sound of my own breath. I can feel my chest rising and falling rapidly as it's synced with the rate of my heartbeat. My hands are all too eager to start moving, but I can't even flex my fingers. I feel like I've been tied down to this bed and covered with blocks of cement. This is too frustrating.

_Beep…beep…_

It takes me a few seconds before I stop struggling all together due to exhaustion. It's no use; I'm trapped in a body that's in too much fatigue to even be lifting my own fingers, so instead, I take the rest of the following minutest trying to breathe in all of the senses I'm much too grateful to have again.

_Beep…beep…_

My ears focus on what's been disturbing the silence throughout this place. It's not a sound that means much to me, those beeps, but it's enough of a hint to tell me that it's a heart monitor.

_Beep…beep…_

I must be in a hospital, if that's the case.

But why? It's only making me more curious.

There's a dextrose that's placed on my right hand, and some sort of rubber covering clipped on my finger. Is it because I had to get an operation? Did I break my bones? Waves and waves of questions are running and clashing against each other as seemingly endless possibilities of what might've happened begin to fill my mind. There are too many questions that I know I can't answer, but there's one thing that's been standing out from the others right now.

It's making the air in my lungs leave and the blood in my veins run dry. I'm completely numb, lost and spinning, and it's making my head feel like it's being hammered until it's completely crumbled to dust. I wish it actually worked that way; I wish my mind would stop working right now.

Because right now there's one question that I don't know the answer to.

_Who am I? _

My thoughts are interrupted, thankfully, when I hear the door slam open with a force so strong that I could feel the walls shake. Or, at least, the walls inside my mind. It makes me flinch, but body doesn't exactly respond the same way.

"Please! Let me see her!" The voice is screaming, hoarse and tired as if it's all that this voice has been doing the entire time. It's unfamiliar to my ears, but I do recognize that it's a girl's voice. "She's my best friend! I need to see her!"

"Miss—"

"Oh my _God," _she whispered. "Is she okay? Tell me she's okay. This can't be—"

"Please, miss, we need you to calm down first. She's unconscious, but she's alive." Another person says, softer and gentler than the first one. But there's also a sense of authority and knowingness in her that makes me guess that she's either a nurse or the girl's family. Probably the earlier. "She's still sleeping, catching up with her much-needed rest."

_I'm not sleeping! _I want to tell her. _I'm awake, but I can't move, and I need someone to release me from whatever's holding me down. Please help me. _

But nothing comes out, and nothing is heard from me. The world must hate me so much that it wouldn't even want to listen to what I have to say.

I can't hear what the girl or the nurse says afterwards either, but there's a short, whispered exchange between them that's too muffled for me to understand. There's an abrupt silence that fills the room, before the girl speaks again.

"How did they find her?"

"The group of men who brought her here didn't know anything about it," the other replied. "They discovered her lying unconscious on the side of the highway, not a few miles away from here. She must have been brought and left there, or was able to walk all the way until her body had collapsed from blood loss." It makes me uneasy how they're talking about me, especially since I don't remember any of this happening. But I listen anyway, seeing as I have no choice.

"What happened?" The girl croaks, the small crack in her voice hinting that she's already on the verge of tears. "Will she be okay? Is her family—"

"Police were investigating a car crash incident that happened a few blocks near the place she was found, so they're assuming that this must've been the same car she was in. They're still trying to look for solid evidences that could prove it. They couldn't find any IDs or electronic devices or an address. The license plate was also gone, and it could possibly mean that whatever hit them wasn't an accident." I could feel the nurse's eyes on me as she cleared her throat.

"Your friend, if she was in that car, was the only survivor as of yet. But tests are still being made, so hopefully she's not alone." There's a hint of sympathy laced in her voice, and I don't like the sound of it. It makes me feel weak and helpless. "She was already close to dying when she was brought here, but she's definitely okay now. Many of her bones were fractured, her ribs most of all, but everything's already taken care of and all she needs now is some proper healing time."

The girl releases a sigh of relief. "Thank you, nurse."

"No problem, sweetie." The lady's tone changes again, softer and comforting, when she says, "Give her two weeks to rest—three at the most—and then we'll see if she can be released soon."

I hear the door click open. "I'll be coming back in a few hours for some tests and a medical sheet that we need you to fill up for her. We couldn't find her records on the computer."

"She's not from here."

"Oh," The lady says slowly. "I see. If we have any information on the police findings, or if you need more details prior to her current condition, we'll make sure to tell immediately. At least the police have decided to leave her alone until she's well-rested."

There's a long pause that makes me wonder if the nurse already left, but then I hear her say, "Don't tire yourself out, Christina. Tris has always been such a strong and brave girl for you; she won't let you down, just like you never have." She leaves those last words in the air before she is finally out of the room.

_Tris has always been such a strong and brave girl for you…_

Unless they were talking about someone else, then I must be the Tris and the other girl must be Christina. I try to take a step back from where my mind is now and think about who this Christina girl is, or if I'm really this Tris girl. Nothing comes into my head, though, and quick flash of disappointment passes through me.

It wasn't until I felt my hand being touched that I returned from my state and realized that Christina's holding my hand. It's a firm grip that doesn't kill my hand, but it's tight enough to wonder if she's trying to hold me because she doesn't to lose me—or because she doesn't want to lose herself, clinging on to me like I was the rope that could stop her from falling off a cliff.

_…she won't let you down, just like you never have…_

And maybe it's because I knew what it felt like to release everything that clung onto my shoulder, or because the old me has probably never seen her at her weakest point yet, but I can't help but feel the relief and sadness that came through me when she cried. _She's been keeping this in_, I think, _and it's probably because she wants to show that she's brave._

But I believe that crying doesn't make a person weak, nor does it define who they are. It's an act of bravery, an act of humanity, because it means that you're capable of feeling things and you accept them. The world may be selfish, but it doesn't judge those who grieve.

Her tears are falling and landing on my skin, like stars falling from the sky, and I wish that I could have enough strength to lift my hand and wipe her tears away. I feel her arms rest on top of my stomach, her entire body slowly crumbling afterwards as I feel her head rest there too. Sobs are rocking her body and there is nothing I can do but feel sorry for the memories that I've misplaced, for the girl who lost someone who must've been so important that she was deserving of her best friend's tears. I feel sorry for not remembering who I was, or who I am to her.

Because I don't know if I'm the same person as I was before, and I don't know if I can ever be that same person again.

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**__****"Des voix dans les obscurité" = "Voices In The Dark"**

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**_A/n_**_: _Whew. I think this is a good starting chapter, yeah? I always get writer's block whenever I try to write a start-up sentence, or the first chapter in general. Thank you so much for the support you guys have given me on the prologue, and I hope that I'll be able to do my best until the end

**Inspiration song: **"Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men and "The End!" by My Chemical Romance (... I never said it was related to the story.)

Comments, corrections, questions, or some suggestions? Writing them down and posting them on the reviews page will gain my appreciation. Thanks!


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